


We'll Take Flight

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Professors, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Non-SHIELD AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: Non-SHIELD AU. When Jemma has to rush back to the UK to deal with a family emergency, she's lucky to have Fitz as her very best friend. But when something unexpected happens, Jemma sees Fitz in a completely different way.





	1. “You can borrow mine.” “Drive safely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "[I Take Flight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5A98T-aLWWw)" by Mindy Gledhill.
> 
> Based off of [this prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/159368555672/i-should-say-no-jane-no-prompt-taking-but) from [recoveringrabbit](https://recoveringrabbit.tumblr.com/). This was intended to be a solitary drabble, but it turned into this instead! Enjoy!

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma yells over her shoulder as she rummages through her closet. “Where did you put my suitcase? I can’t find it anywhere!”

Fitz walks in the room, a pen hanging from his mouth. 

“What?”

She looks behind another box and groans. “My suitcase, Fitz. I know I put it right here, but I can’t—”

“Why would I know where it is?”

“Because I always put it back in the same place, so you must have moved it!”

“I don’t even live here!”

This makes her look up at him, and the two of them blink at each other before she reminds herself that Fitz is her dearest friend in the world, who so kindly came over to help her in her hour of need, and she should probably stop yelling at him.

Fitz shakes his head, putting one hand to his temple. “It’ll be fine, just . . . you can borrow mine.”

It takes her a second before it registers. 

“What?”

But he’s out the door before she can stop him, and this is not the first time she’s been grateful that he only lives a few doors down. By the time he returns, she has an armful of clothes to put in the suitcase he provides.

“Thank you, Fitz.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile. “Now, I’ve checked you in and printed your tickets, so you should be able to go straight to security. I’ll go start the car.”

He’s halfway down the hall when she has the presence of mind to call out his name, summoning him back to her.

“Yeah?”

She has to take a moment to smile at him, because she didn’t even ask for this. He’d just assumed.

“Fitz, I’m going to drive myself.”

He furrows his brow at her. “What? Why?”

“Because it’s an hour drive, and you have a class in thirty minutes.”

Maybe she should be embarrassed that she’s already memorized his schedule, but she’s too busy trying to shove the last of her belongings into his suitcase.

“Yeah,” he says, “well, that’s the nice thing about being a professor, isn’t it? I’ll just cancel.”

_“Fitz.”_

It’s true that he’s her friend, but it’s also true that he has this way of looking at her that takes her breath away. It’s the eyes, she decides. They’re breathtaking. 

“Jemma,” he says, “you shouldn’t have to go alone.”

She wonders if he knows the truth underneath that, that she’s grown so attached to him these past few years that she almost wants him to come with her. But he hasn’t offered, and there’s no way she could ask.

“I’ll be fine,” she says, even as the reality hits her. It’s funny how grief works sometimes. Jemma can be perfectly fine and then— “It’s just a heart attack. I’m sure my dad will be . . . I mean he’s already . . .”

She’s not sure if she fell into his arms, if he pulled her in, or if they somehow met in the middle. She does know, however, that she doesn’t ever want to let him go.

She has to, though, so she does, feeling calmer than she was before. She smiles at him to let him know.

“I’ll be fine, Fitz, truly.” She gathers her suitcase and her purse, checking for her passport before heading towards the door. “Shall we?”

“You’ll call me?” he asks, trailing behind her. She waits until he steps through the threshold, then she locks the door. “When you get there. If you need anything?”

“I’ll call you,” she promises. He leans in to give her a hug good bye, plants a peck on her lips, and she’s in the car before she realizes he kissed her. 

She sits there, two hands on the steering wheel, too overwhelmed to process it all. If she hadn’t already been in the process of seizing the day, if she hadn’t been reminded of the fleeting nature of life, she might have run away. Instead, she steps out of the car, marches over to her best friend in the world, and kisses him back.

Her kiss is slow and gentle, meant to convey the feelings she’s been keeping to herself. It’s not until he puts his hands on her waist that she realizes she’s in love with him.

She wishes she had all the time in the world, but she knows the plane won’t wait for her. When she ends the kiss, she watches his eyes, her hands still cupping his jaw. 

“Drive safely, Jemma,” he says.

“I will,” she promises. “Goodbye, Fitz.”

He swallows, and she is reminded that she now knows the flavor of his lips. In another time, in another place, she would stay here forever. In this time and this place, she leaves.

“I’ll call,” she promises as she gets back into her car. “I promise.”

She doesn’t hear what he says when she closes the door, but she does see him waving in the rear-view mirror. She has a lot to worry about ahead of her, but there is a certain comfort knowing that she has Fitz behind her, ready to support her when necessary.

She puts the car into drive and goes, confident that she can face what lies ahead, certain that she has something worth coming home to.


	2. “It brings out your eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [this prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/159875368947/jane-56-for-the-prompt-thing-please) from [hemnalini](http://hemnalini.tumblr.com/).

He doesn’t look up when the door creaks open, having learned that it only embarrasses the students. Instead, he grabs the ream of paper and allows the latecomer to believe they haven’t been disruptive at all.

“Now,” he says, “I know that spacetime is a difficult concept, but think about it this way.” He sets the ream of paper on the table, for all the class to see. “We’re 3D, yeah? Okay, but imagine we lived in a two-dimensional existence. Flat,” he continues, picking up the top sheet from the ream, “just like this piece of . . .”

He almost chokes on his own spit when he sees her. She’s sitting way in the back, but that smile shines like a lighthouse. He stands there, gaping at her until she mouths the words _go on_ , and he realizes the whole class is very confused.

And of course, he must look like a fool, standing at the front of the class holding a piece of paper and stunned that the woman he loves just waltzed in. She’s supposed to be on the other side of the ocean. He’s supposed to meet her at the airport on Saturday. It takes him a minute to realize that he’s also supposed to be giving a lecture.

“This . . .” He squints down at the sheet in his hands. “Imagine that we’re flat, like this piece of paper. We wouldn’t be able to conceive of . . .” She leans in, and he swallows, “Of three dimensions. Of a cube, or . . . anything that’s not two-dimensional.”

He continues as best as he can, but she has to know how she’s affecting him, or she wouldn’t be enjoying it so much. In the end, he has to avoid looking in her corner of the room, or he’ll keep thinking of the way she looked the last time he saw her, of the way he kissed her without realizing it, of the fire in his blood when she kissed him back. So he watches the ream of paper, the whiteboard, the podium, and his notes. He glances at the front row, the second row, and his own hands. And somehow, magically, he makes it through the class.

He shuffles through his notes as the students leave, pretending to pack up even as he feels her draw closer. He’s never felt his heart beat like this before, because he didn’t realize how much he loves her until she kissed him like she loves him back. 

“Fascinating lecture,” she says, and he still doesn’t look up. “I never thought of teaching it that way. I may have to steal your methods.”

Her voice is so casual, so usual, that he can’t help but look at her face and hope there’s another meaning behind her words. He finds that her coy smile is enough to blind him.

“You’re early,” he says, then winces. “I mean, you’re _back_ early. Is everything . . . is everything alright with your mum and dad?” 

Her smile sobers, but doesn’t disappear. “He’s doing fine, actually. Recovering quite nicely. I would have been happy to stay longer, but I started to feel like I was in the way.” She shrugs, as if that’s just life, as if her presence isn’t something to be treasured. He narrows his eyes at her.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.”

“Well,” she says, “you know my parents. I’ve been out of the house so long that I tend to muck up their routine. And I think my mum just wanted him to herself, since she came so close to losing him.” 

This smile is different, like she’s remembering something unspeakably pleasant, and he wonders if she’s ever looked at her parents the way he has, if she’s ever thought that love wasn’t worth having if it didn’t look something like theirs.

“I did have time to go through their cupboards, though,” she continues. Her smile grows mischievous. “I binned everything remotely unhealthy and replaced it with something much better. I had some angry texts waiting for me when I got off the plane!” She chuckles then, and he restrains himself from saying he should have been there, or that he almost booked himself a ticket. 

“I know how he feels,” he says instead, trying to control the smile of his own. “You did the same thing to me once, if you recall.”

“I recall that you had nothing in your kitchen but ice cream,” she says. “And I remember that you made yourself sick with it. I also remember thinking that the girl who dumped you didn’t deserve you or your tears.”

He takes in a breath, because they’d been dancing around this subject on the brief phone calls they’ve had, and here it is. He tries to stammer out a response, but it takes a few fragments of nonsensical sounds before he finds the right word.

“Dinner.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and he’s pleased to have surprised her.

“What?”

“Dinner,” he repeats. “You must be exhausted from your trip. Let me take you out to dinner.”

He’s pretty sure that he said an actual, complete sentence, but his mind is whirling. He’d made a reservation for the day she was scheduled to come back, but would they let him move it? Or would he have to start his research all over again? Honestly, there were so many variables, and he was sure Italian was appropriate for the occasion, but what if he couldn’t find—

“Dinner,” she says, both a statement and a question. He swallows.

“Yes.”

She tilts her head at him, as if she’s not sure what he means, but he’s sure it must be plastered all over his face. He was sure that a kiss like that meant she wanted him to take her on a date, but the silence gives room for doubts. What if—

“That sounds lovely,” she says. “But I have one condition.”

He almost chokes for a second time. “Okay.”

“You have to wear your blue dress shirt. The one you wore when we went to the symphony, with the same tie.” She looks down at the floor, and he swears he sees the hint of a blush on her cheeks. “It’s just that it . . . it brings out your eyes. And it’ll go well with the dress I want to wear.”

“Oh,” he stammers. “Oh, I mean if you . . . okay.” He does some mental inventory and verifies that yes, that shirt is clean and pressed, and he’s pretty sure he has the tie. But—did she say she’d wear a dress?

“Okay?”

She looks up into his eyes and he swears, in this moment, he’d give her anything.

“Yeah, I can . . . I can do that. I have, um, I have another class after this, but I can pick you up around . . . six?”

Six, he hopes, is early enough that they’ll get a table right way, maybe early enough that he might be able to ask for an outside table where they can share the view. It’s supposed to be warm tonight, so she should be comfortable even if she . . .

She nods. “Six is perfect. I’ll see you then. And Fitz?”

He’s still trying to tell himself that it’s a Thursday, that the restaurant is near the stadium but the big game isn’t until tomorrow, that it should be fine it should be fine it should be fine, so it takes him a second to realize she asked him a question.

“Uh, yes?”

Her expression is truly unreadable.

“Thank you.”

He furrows his brow. “Thank you? For what?”

She looks down, but one corner for her lips curls upward.

“For teaching me that some things are inevitable. For being something to come home to.”

And he’s so stunned by what she means that he doesn’t realize she’s standing on her toes to kiss him until it’s happening. It’s all too brief, but he knows what it means. He knows that they both have wonderful things to look forward to.

She doesn’t say anything before she leaves, just gives him a look so pointed that he’s still standing there long after she’s left, alone in this empty room and feeling more full than he ever has in his life.

There’s a difference, he thinks, between coming home and having your home come back to you. 

He’ll have to find a way to thank her for that.


	3. “It looks good on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of a prompt by anonymous.

She’s not sure, at first, if pacing in front of her door is the right move. At this rate, she’ll open the door before he even gets there, and won’t that come off as . . . eager? Needy, maybe? She’s been playing it so well so far, dropping in on his class and keeping him on his toes. In the moment, she’d been so happy to see him that it had all felt natural. Now, she’s overthinking everything.

She ends up buried in her suitcase when the doorbell rings, and it’s then that she realizes that it’s completely ridiculous to be unpacking in a dress. Luckily, the material smooths easily under her hands as she races to her bathroom mirror for a final makeup check, then races for the door.

She opens it to find Fitz’s fist in the air, ready to knock. He’s frozen, but it doesn’t stop him from taking her in.

“You wore the shirt,” she says, noting that the tie she requested is also present and accounted for. He looks down at himself, smooths the tie, then looks back up at her.

“You, uh, you wore the dress,” he says. “It looks good on you.”

The flush of her cheeks is positively embarrassing, but she happily takes his offered hand and steps out of her apartment, locking the door behind her. She ducks into the car when he opens the door, enjoying a secret smile as he walks around to the driver’s side. They’ve gone out together as friends more times than she can count, but now there is something about the air in his car that is absolutely electric. She spent the majority of two flights imagining what it would be like to date her best friend, and the fact that she’s actually going on a date with him so soon seems somewhat surreal. 

He looks over at her briefly, then at the wheel, like he’s not sure where his eyes are supposed to be. His mouth hardens into a line and he starts the car, avoiding looking at her at all as he backs out of the parking space. She waits for him to get to finish the maneuver before distracting him.

“Fitz,” she says. She puts her hand over where his rests on the shifter, meeting his eyes when they flicker over to her. She smiles as warmly as she feels. “Why have we never done this before?”

This produces the reaction she intended: the tension melting off his shoulders, the smile in his lips. He looks down at the shifter and turns his hand so they are palm to palm, her fingers filling in the gaps.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not sure why we’re doing it now. If you told me last week that this was happening today, I never would have believed it.”

She nods, agreeing. A week ago, she would have expected this day to be filled with him a different way: sitting on her couch talking about lesson plans or sitting on the floor in front of his coffee table, swapping horror stories about their students over Chinese takeout. He’s been such an important part of her life for so long, woven into every aspect, that it almost seems ridiculous that this is the very first time they’ve explored becoming even more to each other.

“Neither would I,” she says, grateful that he hasn’t let go of her hand. “But it’s silly, isn’t it? That it hasn't happened before?”

He takes his eyes off the road to cast her a bewildered look, which she tries to meet with confidence.

“You think so?”

She cocks her head at him. “Yes. Don’t you?”

He frowns, but she knows him well enough to wait for his words.

“I don’t have any idea what’s happening,” he says. “Just that, now that it is, it seems like . . .”

He does this a lot, trailing off in the middle of expressing his feelings. She never knows if he simply can’t find the words, or if he needs her reassurance before he has the strength to share them. She understands his hesitance, if that’s what it is. If she hadn’t just spent the last few days worrying about losing someone she loves, she might not have the courage to take such risks.

“It seems natural, to me,” she says, feeling brave. “Like it’s time.”

He swallows, and she’s glad they’ve stopped at a light. “Time?”

She has to take a breath, remembering that Fitz _always_ gets nervous on dates, and that’s what this is.

“Yeah,” she says. “We’re already best friends, and now it’s time for us to become better ones.”

She tries to hide her wince as the line didn’t come out the way she’d practiced it in the shower. Still, Fitz doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “We’re great friends, but there’s always a ceiling to that, isn’t there? But we’ve never found one.”

She shrugs, feeling a certain lightness in her heart. “I think we have a floor.”

She’s always loved his smile, but now she knows why. Now, she can allow herself to enjoy it. 

“Yeah,” he says. “So we shouldn’t be nervous, should we? We’re just . . . us. Maybe we should stop thinking-”

“And just do,” she finishes. “Of course.”

It makes sense, but it’s a relief that he’s the one who’s saying it. There has never been anything more natural than being with him, and if he’s certain, then she has no reason to be nervous.

“After all,” she teases, “that’s what got us in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?” 

This smile is brighter and absolutely contagious. He shakes his head again, but this time as an act of self-deprecating humor.

“Just seemed like the thing to do, I guess.”

She’s replayed the kiss in her mind a thousand times, but now she can see it from his perspective—the worry and concern, the need to show reassurance and affection. Maybe, under different circumstances, she might have done the same to him. Maybe they have always been like his ream of spacetime paper—unflinchingly inevitable. 

“Well,” she says, “I’m glad it did.”

They share a smile as they pull into the restaurant parking lot, the electricity still buzzing within her when he stops the car and goes to open her door. If they are inevitable, then this might be a glimpse into their future—everything they’ve always had, but with the small changes that turn something limited into something infinite. It’s not unlike a linear equation with added exponents, or a plane that taxis cautiously on the tarmac before taking off in flight.

She gets out of the car and reaches for his hand, swinging their arms between them and basking in the joy in his eyes. She loves him, she knows, and here they are, embarking on a new journey together.

Somehow, she has a feeling that this is only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


End file.
